


Puritita traición (Vasos vacios)

by 2davidbeckham3



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, also doesn't have to be present day so it can be MNF era if you want, idk this isn't even angst just thinly veiled jabs at people tbh, just imagine everyone dressed up in suits bc formal presser yes, so sorta AU but not really, so this is like sorta weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2davidbeckham3/pseuds/2davidbeckham3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gary knew this would happen at one point, but he never imagined his world would crash down quite like this.<br/><br/>Granted, maybe his apocalyptic mindset was a just a teeny-tiny bit exaggerated, but Gary wanted to avoid the inevitable for as long as he could. He hadn’t seen <em>him</em> in ages, and Gary wasn’t planning to any time soon.<br/> <br/>-<br/><br/>Or the one where Gary realized he was in love with his best friend at one point and it's kinda hard to break-up with someone you weren't going out in the first place. <br/><br/>Or the one where Gary hates crowded places and gets his hands on too much champagne and not enough dessert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puritita traición (Vasos vacios)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my first work in a while and probably the longest thing I've written ever. (Even things I've written with footnotes). Also I'm American so English ~lingo~ isn't my thing and I'm a Barca fan and I just watch the EPL for fun so...
> 
> Apologies in advance and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (this work is not beta'd because my friends don't like football so all mistakes are my own. please tell me if there's anything major like the Carra's amount of official appearances for Liverpool!)

Gary knew this would happen at one point, but he never imagined his world would crash down quite like this.

Granted, maybe his apocalyptic mindset was a just a teeny-tiny bit exaggerated, but Gary wanted to avoid the inevitable for as long as he could. He hadn’t seen _him_ in ages, and Gary wasn’t planning to any time soon. He couldn’t. Especially now that he felt he like he drowning. Well, that might’ve been that he was gulping down his champagne in record time, but it was true, nevertheless. His tie was too tight, his suit to heavy, his-

“You alright, mate?”

 _No._

Gary tried to think of a response, sending a half-heated glare Jamie’s way. One that was met with Jamie’s own unflinching stare, which would have been more effective had it not been that he still looked flustered from his latest interview. It wasn’t like they had asked him hard questions, per se, but going out in public for the first time with his boyfriend, at least to an “informal” press event, even after having been dating for months, was a bit difficult. It’s not like Gary was there _trying_ to make it difficult. He just stood there, looking the part of supporting friend – or boyfriend, to those journos that were speculating about their relationship status – without saying a word. He was the victim of a few questioning glances from the journalist, but he was just curious as to why a Manc would voluntarily hang around a Scouser for an extended of period of time.

And, even though he wasn’t doing anything during these interviews, Gary could tell that his mere presence made Jamie nervous. If the state of his tie was anything to go on. The piece of silk had barely managed to stay intact after the interview, only just hanging around his neck since Jamie wouldn’t stop messing with it while he was answering questions. 

But, it wasn’t like these episodes had ruined Jamie’s sense of perception and the Mancunian could see that he was fucked.

“Y’ know I don’t like these things,” he replied quickly, gesturing to the scene around them with his empty glass. “They’re too much.” He added, glancing up at the taller man before asking one of the wandering staff to get rid of his glass.

Gary wasn’t exaggerating when he said it was a packed house. Everyone and their mother was there. Literally. He wouldn’t be surprised if he saw Ronnie’s mother running around looking for her son to save him from yet another awkward conversation. Sure, it wasn’t like Cristiano Ronaldo was afraid of the spotlight – not that he was here, Gary couldn’t be sure – but he had seen Mama dos Santos save her son from a fair share of interviews when he put her up to it back when he played for Manchester. Now, that was a sight. Tonight was shaping up to be that kind of night and, although he and Jamie could fly relatively under the radar, the atmosphere was still stifling. 

Of course, he and Jamie only flew _relatively_ under the radar. Though this probably because of their stature – or their temper – but Gary’d blame their statue above all, nonetheless. Well, Jamie’s. He was too tall and bulky and you could literally spot the Scouser’s scowl from half a football field away. Not that Gary usually complained about Jamie's appearance, but why was it that two double-Euro and World Cup winning midfielders were completely alone in their spot next to the dessert table? They should’ve been asked about the weather, at the very least, not 737-appearances-for-Liverpool Carragher about his opinion about Premier League teams and their current struggle in the Champions’ league. Sure, Iniesta had a serene air about him that made everyone around question whether he was part faun or the kindest and shortest Lord of the Rings elf around. It seemed like that, coupled with Xavi’s don’t-even-look-at-me aura (apparently still effective even while the raven-haired Catalan had his mouth stuffed with cheesecake brownies, looking like a squirrel getting ready for the winter) could make any journo lay off. Still, Gary thought, it wasn’t fair.

At least he had the smallest reprieve when Jamie nudged his side to point out Raúl and Zidaine literally running away from a group of journalists that came their way.

(“How’s that f’r a speed walk?” Jamie mumbled after Gary slapped his hand. He’d had the audacity to point. _To point_.

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t even know what that means.” Gary hissed, quickly turning his attention to another spot in the room not wanting to get caught in yet another interview. Once you met their eyes it was all game over. That, and the fact that Jamie’s breath on his neck was causing some not so family-friendly thoughts pop into his head.)

At least they weren’t constantly being hounded with questions this time around, there were more interesting people around than two grumpy retired English players. Especially now on international break in which every coach decided to test out their under-20 teams for this round of friendlies. Vincente del Bosque was testing out his third-choice goalkeeper, and resting De Gea, for Christs sake. Though, if the Spaniard was here, he’d probably regret it, Gary thought with a smirk, spotting the aforementioned goalkeeper chatting with Fernando Torres.

“What d’you think they’re talking about?” Gary nodded towards the pair. He couldn’t exactly blame the coach, he didn’t have to worry about facing the Messis of the world, this time around.

“For your sake, I hope he ain’t listening to a word he’s saying. But do you think it’s an Atletico curse? You’re only successful at one club afterwards then you lose your form, y'know, like Cinderella?” Jamie mused, the grim look on his face at odds with his joking tone. El Niño’s transfer still hurt then.

“I’ll have to keep you posted on that one.” Gary snorted. “I hope it’s true though.” Costa would have an interesting future if it was.

“Can you believe Tevez’s getting a chance to start in the Argentinian national team, again? Next thing you know they’re gonna bring back Abreu and Forlán to Uruguay just ‘cause Luis wants to sleep in one day.”

They went on like that for a while, gossiping about whoever they laid their eyes on and the longer they talked the more Gary was surprised that he and Jamie had been approached at this event at all, considering the line-up of stars that had managed to attend. Not only ‘legends’ like the galácticos they’d spotted moments before, but other surprises like Wayne Rooney and Sergio Agüero, both uninjured, for once, chatting amicably with the small crowds that surrounded them. At this point, he and Jamie had made their own rounds and somehow Gary managed to get to his third glass of champagne, much to Carra’s amusement. Gary wasn’t a lightweight, no matter what his partner said. It only took one time to ruin his reputation, Gary mused, rolling his eyes at in response to his thoughts. Up until this point, he’d managed to forget the one thing he was dreading, _but_ it was the inevitable after all.

“Gaz?” Cue spit-take.

Or at least an awkward choking-take on Gary’s part, because of course, _of course_ , David had to call out his name right when he was taking the first sip of his third glass of champagne. At this point, Jamie was saying “hello” to someone or was doing something that drew him away from Gary because those were definitely not the Scouser’s hands that were now patting his back trying to prevent Gary from seriously hurting himself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” David chuckled once Gary’s coughing had subsided, giving him one last pat on the back. “How’ve you been?”

The brunette tightened the grip on his glass, opting to draw one more deep breath before turning to face his friend. For some reason, Gary couldn’t respond with ‘You would know if you checked your phone, you fucker,” the joking answer he would have given to anyone else. No, it wasn’t the fact that he felt bad because David honestly didn’t know – you would think he would check his messages at the rate that he updated his Instagram, but it was mostly radio silence unless it was some sort of major holiday or Man United won by an incredible margin (mostly holidays) – it was the fact that dating Carra made Gary think about his past.

His gradual trip down memory lane was fine, for the most part. Gary hadn’t properly thought about sucking David off since 2002, but everyone probably did back then – considering what he had done in the World Cup Qualifiers – and hadn’t thought about his dick in general since sometime around 2006.

No, it wasn’t that. It was the fact that, Gary realized he’d managed to fall for David fucking Beckham and he was only realizing it years later. It wasn’t that he was still in love with him, not in that way, but now he was doubting his every move, his every thought around the Londoner. How was he supposed to act around him?

“Oh, I’m fine,” Gary replied with a weak smile, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of David’s gaze. “You?”

David’s answering smile was blinding, unintentionally attempting to stir up those feelings that Gary buried long ago. That smile would have stolen the breath from his lungs, it would have-

“Oh, I’m great,” David began animatedly, nodding excitedly before continuing. “I’m actually really glad to be here.”

Suddenly, David’s eyes shifted to a point beside Gary, his grin dimming to a more professional smile. “What brings the two of you here?”

Jamie, Gary sighed, biting his lip to hold down the urge to apologize. Jamie probably knew, no he knew about Gary’s feelings – former feelings – even though he hadn’t mentioned them. Still, Gary felt a small twinge of guilt, almost as if he had betrayed Jamie by having this conversation.

“Oh, you know, the same as everyone,” Jamie responded with a tense smile, his clipped tone just a bit shy of passing as friendly. Now that caused Gary’s guilt to melt into annoyance, barely fighting the urge to elbow the Scouser. Jamie was literally posturing, chest out, chin raised. Shaking his head, Gary decided to tune out of the conversation, he could already tell that it was going to be an emotional roller-coaster, one that he wasn’t drunk enough for.

By the time his glass was empty, Gary found out that the pair ended up talking about the LA Galaxy, thankfully.

“- No, yeah, Landon was great. I don’t know why people don’t see it. He’s so underrated, I mean-“

Whatever praises David was going to sing about his former teammate were drowned out as a cheerful voice called out his name.

_“David!”_

More galácticos, this time more of the homegrown variety. Much to David’s embarrassment, Sergio Ramos was hanging off his back like some sort of spider monkey, his hands wrapping around the Londoner’s front in a vice grip that prevented him from escaping. Behind him followed an amused Iker Casillas who could do no more than laugh at his friend’s actions.

“Hey, Sergio. I was just talking to Jamie…” David trailed off with a laugh, attempting to pry the other’s hands from him.

This lead to another round of introductions, one of the less awkward ones of the night, thanks to Sergio’s uncontrollable enthusiasm that even Iker couldn’t calm. The conversation shifted of course, this time requiring Gary’s input at one point, though he managed to escape from Jamie’s questioning glances every time he spoke by zoning out again, twirling his empty glass absentmindedly in his hand. He didn’t have much to say, especially when Sergio began to talk in a rapid mix of Spanish and English – more Spanish than English – that barely anyone in their group could understand.

Not that he’d admit it, but he was glad to see a harried Phil approach with Scholesy, their arrival a welcome distraction to the ongoing conversation. Jamie was still putting on airs and David looked just a bit too comfortable, for Gary’s liking, around the two other Spaniards. Not to mention the fact that he was taking Jamie’s attitude in stride, Gary suspected that Jamie would quit testing David soon, having continued for so long out of sheer stubbornness - it wasn’t like David even knew that _they_ were going out.

“It’s a mad house in here Gaz!”

“They don’t even recognize you, I don’t know why you act like you’re the victim.”

“-chased into the bathroom and – Hey! It’s not like you said a word all evening – and they just-“

Maybe Gary’d spoken too soon, he didn’t know that Phil had gotten the chance to go to the dessert table. Guess today was cheat day and sugar-high Phil Neville wasn’t the funnest thing to deal with. No wonder Paul was in such a bad mood.

Carra, thankfully, put an end to Phil’s ramblings, pointedly asking Scholesy a question, effectively shutting Phil out since he deemed it too boring to reply. Gary took this time to turn back and see if the other galácticos were around, only to see that Iker had moved close to David’s side, allowing the Englishman to see the photos Sergio was showing to him on his phone. Gary was surprised to see how close David was standing next to Iker. Then, he realized that David had his hand on the small of Iker’s back. Sure, he’d heard that Spaniards were a friendly bunch, but David left Madrid long ago, and he wasn’t there long enough to properly adopt any of the local customs. But, obviously, culture had nothing to do with it.

Suddenly, all Gary could see was the way that David looked at Iker. Iker, at this moment, was laughing, trying to scold Sergio for dropping his phone, unaware of the Englishman’s gaze. With a small smile, David leaned over to press a small kiss to Iker’s temple, causing the goalkeeper to stutter, his jovial smile suddenly turning shy. Sergio, of course, was oblivious to all of this, still checking his phone screen for any cracks.

“Come on, Jamie” Gary declared, leaving his friend and brother to bicker. “Let’s have hot jealous sex in the bathroom. I know you want to.”

Gary knew that Jamie was watching him the whole time, his compliance evidence of that. At any other occasion, Jamie would have protested, if at least for show, but this time he was right beside him. It’s not that he was jealous of Iker or that Jamie had a reason to be jealous of David. It was just that David’s blatant display of affection, David who had mastered and measured how to walk, talk, and act in public to a T breaking his routine for a goalkeeper that he “would give” the Balon d’Or to all of those years ago because he was his “friend” just stirred up a flurry of emotions that could best be solved without thinking.

-

 _Mission accomplished,_ Gary thought once he’d finally regained his bearings, leaning up against the stall catching his breath. Looking over at Jamie through hooded eyes he caught the other’s smug look.

“Shut up.” Gary growled a Jamie, who had closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall with a self-satisfied smirk.

“I didn’ say anythin’, Gary.”

“You didn’t have to, that stupid look on your face was loud enough.”

It was all bark with no bite, Gary’s way of apologizing for reasons he didn’t understand yet. They could talk about it another day.

“Let’s go see the other drinks they have, yeah?”

Why there was a necessity for a self-serve bar and caterers walking around with trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne was beyond Gary, but the need to impress a tough crowd evidently outweighed pragmatism.

“Did they really bring his whisky? I bet it tastes like shite.” Jamie mumbled to himself, causing Gary to laugh.

“I bet it’s not that bad, Jamie. What else d’you know how to fix, anyways? A Shirley Temple?” Gary teased. “I’ll go check if there’s anything else I want.” Everyone seemed to love the cheesecake brownies, especially Phil.

As he surveyed the scene around him Gary was faced, yet again, with the man he’d hope to avoid all night. He and Iker were a few tables over – in front of the aforementioned dessert table, sadly – though this time without Sergio. From this vantage point he could see the way David ducked his head bashfully at Iker’s jeers, cementing his act with chagrined scratch of his neck. It wasn’t an act, though. No, not when David brought Iker’s hand up to his mouth and brushed his lips against his knuckles like _that._ Not when he looked at the Spaniard like _that._

Gary didn't know what to feel at that moment, at first only devoid of emotion. There was an emptiness at the pit of stomach, until he felt pride rear its ugly head, causing the inklings of a condescending smirk make its way onto his lips. Finally, _finally._ David was helplessly caught up in someone else’s orbit. Hopelessly infatuated, he was a slave to their every whim. However, The moment ended as quick as it came. Gary sighed, now feeling almost deflated, instead an uneasy stillness filled him in its wake. Gary was distinctly aware of Jamie’s presence beside him, but he was still preoccupied. Was this what it meant to find faults in others that were actually your own? Did Gary look at David like _that_ all those years ago? Does he-

“Why does it look like your brother’s just had his hand down Scholes’ pants?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Gary snaps, the ire in his voice coming naturally, now a reflex to Jamie’s taunts. 

This time Jamie around, sadly, wasn’t just taking the piss, Gary’s quick to admit as he finds two figures moving quickly among the crowd looking more disheveled and carrying an air of shame that didn’t match this get-together at all. “Oh, what the-“ The brunette huffed, spotting his brother look back uneasily at Paul, who quickened his pace to catch up to the blonde. Why Phil didn’t think that sorting out his suit while trying to run away wouldn’t slow him down was beyond him, but at least Paul made short work of catching up to the younger Neville, his slightly flushed face ruining the severity of his glare. 

“I want to go home.” Gary declared, not wanting to watch _that_ train wreck, nor be in charge of picking up the pieces. Jamie replied only with a chuckle. 

Later, when Gary was getting ready for bed, albeit unsuccessfully due to chatter of Portuguese commentators and the light of the television screen filling the room, he was startled by a text. Not many people were awake at 1:28 in the morning, but then again, he rarely was, too.

_You two look good together._

If anyone said David Beckham was well-spoken, Gary’d laugh in their face.

Gary stared at the screen unsure of what to do next until he felt the bed shift under Jamie’s weight. He’d just finished brushing his teeth, having been listening to the game go on while he was in the bathroom. “Ready t’sleep?” Jamie muttered, brushing his lips lightly across Gary’s cheek before reaching over to grab the remote to turn the television off.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Gary nodded, placing his phone on the bedside table before turning to face his partner, smiling slightly as Jamie pulled him to his chest. Jamie Carragher was a cuddler, who knew?

-

_Thanks._

_You do too._

**Author's Note:**

> \- The title is a combination of two unrelated Spanish songs because finding songs about one-sided love that aren't so serious but serious are difficult to find. They're also pretty weird like one of them is a [lyric from a telenovela theme song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZ4nU-WXrEs) and the other is from an [ old Argentinian "ska" band](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OoT-RHgBrp8) (according to Wikipedia). This isn't what I usually listen to, lol it's been a weird week.  
> \- David's [ interview](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p62OV5ybBxo) where he talks about the Balon D'or  
> \- I had no idea what feelings I wanted Gaz to show so I kinda left it ambiguous??? idk I hope things got through, but I was more dedicated to making puns and jokes and stuff (as you can see from my dedication to the Xaviniesta paragraph - my fave paragraph in this whole thing tbh the product of late night fic writing)  
> \- Also sorry if anyone's OOC! creative liberties~ I swear  
> \- I do have a tumblr but I'm in the process of making a soccer sideblog so there's that  
> \- Questions, comments, and concerns are appreciated since I'm on Spring Break and it's two weeks long! I might be posting more stuff, but yeah.  
> \- If you've gotten this far, again I hope you've enjoyed and thank you very very much for reading!


End file.
